The Learning Curve

I’ve had to learn a lot of shit really fast about online hookup culture. First, there’s going to be some bad times- like fuckboys that will inevitably be terrible in bed, leave very quickly, and probably talk some shit due to their own embarrassment for underperforming. I’m not here to shame them individually, they know who they are. You come to recognize certain signs before you meet up with them, and I now go by a code to avoid wasting any more of my time.

Going straight into sex talk right off the bat without any warm-up conversation. Huge red flag. They’re boring, they’re bad in bed, and they’re probably completely socially incompetent. In fact, once you start getting these lame messages prepare some fun comebacks to diffuse and disarm them. It’s fun. Then share the screenshots with your lady friends, because taking fuckboys down a peg is enjoyable for literally everybody. I love a dude that has some fucking game; we both know what we’re on Tinder for (unless you’re one of those retards that’s “not here to hookup” in which case go fuck yourself with a cactus, you tampon,) so show me what you’ve got to nail down a good time. I really enjoy a good opening line, preferably something funny and relevant to my complete list of interests in my About Me section.

Unwilling to give you their phone number, for any fucking reason, but they want to bang you out. That dude’s married. You’re welcome, I cleared up the mystery. Also, do not *ever* mess with someone who claims to be in an “open relationship” without meeting with the other partner- or maybe you banged my former spouse while he was “working.” Don’t be that person, willing or unwilling. Plenty of unattached dicks to ride in this world, don’t hurt another human being because you’ve got the thirst.

Too eager. If they’re incredibly insistent in coming over RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW, RIGHT NOW- guaranteed 3 pump chump, out the door in 5 minutes. Do not mistake this behavior as desirability on your part- you could be a sock, a pumpkin, or a warm apple pie. They do not care, it’s just something other than their hand for the immediate future. What makes these guys so hilarious, though, is they’ll literally drive across town in blizzard conditions (or pay for a taxi,) just to disappoint a woman. Interesting approach, guys.

Demanding/ requiring a blow job for ANY reason. I do not care if you “need” oral to get it up, get off, or perform like a porn star. You’re not entitled to any part of my body, and I’m even less inclined to do it when you’re a demanding little fuckwit. I do not have a g-spot in my god damn mouth, and your whining and begging is a turn off. The flip side is I also do not demand or require a partner to go down on me- it’s completely up to them. I go down if and when I choose to, and under no obligation or pressure from the recipient- as it should be for both parties. If they give me amazing head, I return the favor with gusto. If they give me lovin’ all night, you better believe I’ll wake them up with a beej in the morning. This is my enthusiastic reciprocation and voluntary participation, don’t taint it by being a douche bag.

“I don’t wear/ don’t like condoms.” Literally nobody cares. Not a single fucking person cares if you don’t like to wrap it up, myself included. Nobody actually likes using them, you’re not special. This is not revolutionary behavior to dislike condoms. The moment a potential hookup tells me he refuses to wear one, or will only begrudgingly put one on for me, he’s out. For starters, when changing positions you have no way of knowing if they’ve just taken it off- that’s a real thing that happens. No thank you. If for any reason I decide not to use protection, that is my call and my responsibility to shoulder; you, fuckboy, do not get to decide if we will be using them or not. I especially hate the men who show up to a hookup and didn’t bring any- we will literally go to the corner store at 5am to pick some up, you’re not getting out of it that easily. I refer to the floor surrounding my bed as “the condom graveyard” because of how many I’ll happily go through in a night with a partner. Unroll, toss, snuggle, go for another round. Another problem with this attitude is that in the event they wear a condom and it breaks, you have to remember they don’t normally wear them at all and you’ve just been exposed to X many partners. Nope.

A general rule I keep to with condoms is if they ever make a stink about using them, or try to “convince” me not to use them, they’re stuck on rubbers until the end of time. Remember, you and I are not special snowflakes. This is their game, this is their routine. Eventually, running the same shit with every girl they talk to, they’ll start racking up partners who go raw. I’m not saying I’ve used condoms every time, but I’ve used them every god damn time a dude tried to not wear them. So there. (Fun fact, my regular provider for medical care loves that I come in to get tested regularly without shame. Even with regular condom use. And she fully supports my lifestyle, the blog, and the happiness it brings me. So eat it, haters.) If the condom breaks, he’s paying for the Plan B- and you take him yourself. Even if you’re on some kind of birth control, get the Plan B. Stride of pride together, girl.

My own thirst. This was a hard lesson to learn but I’m getting in control of it now; if I’m too interested in a partner either because of how they look or how I awesome I perceive them, I’m just opening the door for disappointment. I’ll overlook all the obvious red-flags and signs that we’re not compatible because I’m just stunned by rock hard muscles, Gingery goodness, or sharp wit. Those things are great, but a good lover they do not make by default. Men that are “too pretty” may very well underperform because they expect the woman, in my case the big girl, to be grateful or flattered they’re even being considered for a part in this tango. You being hotter than the sun doesn’t magically get me to cum, Fabio.

Alcohol. I’m guilty of not recognizing an inebriated person who will not be able to perform, because of my own excitement they’re going to bang me and also I’m probably drunk as well. What can I say, I love to throw back a few gin Tom Collins’ and ride a new ride. Whiskey dick is the absolute worst. What’s ironic about the scenario is when I get that drunk, I can fuck all night and all day. So if we keep up with each other, he’s not going to be able to get me off and I’m going to want to bang anything that moves just to get my nut off.

Invitations to places that are not safe, or have a bad reputation… or are just frequented by lots of men at once. Men in numbers, by themselves, get into frat-boy douche bag mode. Pack mentality. Take for example the barracks (dorms?) on JBER- I get invited ALL. THE. TIME. Fuck no I’m not going. I’ve heard enough stories. (I joked about it when I first started this journey, that I couldn’t be trusted with my dependent ID to go on base and not find myself in the barracks- but truly, I ain’t about that life. Also, Short Stuff gave me the solid advice to stay away for preservation of my feelings; maybe he really is a sweetheart underneath that insatiable fuck-machine exterior.) Another reason- I’m loud as balls, there’s no way I’m driving/ cabbing across town to group-fucking-housing to bite a pillow. I like being loud. I like that my neighbors no longer call the cops thinking I’m being murdered by my screams. (Probably not the safest thing in the world considering I invite strangers into my house now, but whatever- roll the dice.)

In fact, don’t go anywhere. Make those motherfuckers come to you if you can host- that’s what I do. And don’t pick them up/ drop them off- if they can’t find a ride to get laid, they’ve got more problems than you want to deal with. Oh, they insist on hosting and refuse to come to you? There’s a reason they *can’t* leave their house- and none of them matter in the slightest to you, so don’t go there. Another thing to worry about is if you go to their house, you have no guarantee of being alone… or worse, filmed. Yeah, that’s a thing. Thank you Tucker Max for instilling the fear in me that there’s some frat boy in the closet recording my encounter- you’re my hero.

Pressure. Any pressure at all to do something you’re not already enthusiastic about. Be it a 3some, or anal, or roadhead. You think they’re laying it on thick before you meet in person, it’s 1,000 times worse in person and you might reluctantly do something you’re not really interested in. So just don’t meet them at all. I have no problem saying no, loudly, clearly, rudely- whatever it takes. I love saying no. In fact, during this whole journey my favorite word is NO. Even the sluttiest slut that ever slutted can say NO to whoever or whatever she wants. It’s so empowering to say NO- and it drives them nuts to be rejected by someone so openly promiscuous. Yes, even if I fucked 200 men today you’re still not entitled to be one of them just because you want some action- sorry not sorry.

“You have too many/ so many rules!” Yes, we do have rules. Rules for our safety, rules for our comfort, rules for our pleasure. That’s what having healthy boundaries is like, even in hookup culture. Block immediately if they start saying you’re being difficult because you want to be safe, comfortable, or happy. They’re only in it for their nut anyway.

Minimal effort to fill out a profile/ bio, or show any kind of opinion. This one is huge for me. If I ask you a direct question and you answer with some middle-of-the-road bullshit that doesn’t show any personality, I immediately think you’re just going to parrot back to me anything I’m interested in. This is bad juju and I do not tolerate it. A profile/ bio that says “just ask” is automatically dismissed- you were given the space to summarize yourself and you chose to be a lazy little bitch. No profile picture, or pictures of things/ people/ places not you? Dismissed. I’m sure you feel super special about yourself that only the truly interested few will seek you out to know you- but the truth of the matter is you’re a pretentious dickface who probably can’t hold a conversation. Consider this the time somebody finally told it to you straight, fucko.

Rudeness. This, times 1,000. Do not tolerate rudeness- whether it be in their profile/ bio, or how they chose to interact with you when first contact was made. Do not put up with it, it’s only worse in person or behind your back. I immediately dismiss negative profiles/ bio’s that focus one putting people down, or insisting that member is somehow superior to anybody. You’re not, homefry. You’re on Tinder, too. Another red flag is if they mention right off the bat they avoid drama- news flash, they don’t. They bring the noise to your sanctuary. Anybody loudly proclaiming to not want drama is already dealing with a shit load of it. AVOID, DELETE, BLOCK, BAN, NEXT. Do not get sucked in.

Going by what I’ve learned so far I’m fairly comfortable with the quality of the tail I’m pulling. Some not so great ones still get in, but that’s the luck of the draw.

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DD Fnord

I left my cheating spouse September of 2015. In October of that year, I filed for divorce and set out to move on and reclaim my lost libido. I spent 8 years of my 20's faithful to two unfaithful men, I have so much time to make up for! All The Dicks is my journey having sex with whoever I want, whenever I want, however I want. The first person I spent the night with after my husband, reignited the spark and desire I thought I would need counseling to retrieve. The second person I was with sealed the deal. I wasn't broken, I just needed a tune up. This collection of encounters are the ones worth re-telling- I don't write about every sexual encounter I have, and I certainly don't bother with any that were sub-par. The screenshots are my own personal wall of shame, but also my trophies because nobody puts baby in a corner.
View all posts by DD Fnord